The car stopped
And, so did my heart.Drifting towards the known
A stranger
Gripped with fear of the unknown.
The longest walk,
the shortest distance.
Rooted to the spot, transfixed
My hands reached for the door.
Feeble knocks turned louder.
A cacophony of sounds
A welter of emotions.
Converging at the doorstep
Of a place called Home.
There she was,
Dressed in white,
Questioning a tear-drenched face.
Her eyes probing for recognition.
Epiphany struck
And her arms enveloped the stranger.
Reluctantly, clumsily – apprehensively,
Albeit strongly.
‘Welcome Home’ she said.
Her voice reverberated through the stillness.
The brick house, now painted green
Deodar windows, now white.
Three walnut trees
Gone.
Residents- Unknown.
I sat – broken – on the stairs,
Mind clouded with confusion.
A long wait over,
fantasy wrecked
This?
This was not Home!
Bhawna
Thanks Bhawna for penning these lines which evoke melancholy. A tragedy that has been – Pandits leaving their homes.
Leave a comment